Starcraft Story
by Hobbilobicus60
Summary: Hey guys. Had an idea about what it could like for a marine grunt in Starcraft. Not exactly by the book with the game Warehouse for supply depots, etc. but got some awesome actions scenes for a first chapter. It throws you right in the action. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

"Come on, Marines! We're movin' out in 5 minutes!"

I couldn't help but jump at the sound of Sarge's voice barking throughout the barracks. His stocky shoulders nearly filled the doorway completely, not to mention the combat gear he was wearing right now, all except for his helmet. He chose to wear a cap, his ebony skin the only thing exposed to the air. A fat cigar was stuck in the corner of his mouth, the tip glowing with a single wisp of smoke curling upwards. He turned around crisply and marched out of the room.

Man, I was so jittery I could barely finish strapping on my combat boots. A huge, meaty hand slapping my back didn't help at all. I glanced over to see Lance, my squad leader.

"Calm down, rook. Ya won't be no good to anybody if ya keep up these jitters," Lance said. One corner of his mouth was curled up into an amused smirk, while his eyes glinted with the same humor. The three clawed scar across his face yanked his smirk farther up then it should've been. Easily weighing 280 of solid muscle, I wouldn't want to get in a fight with him and was glad he was on my side.

"That's easy for you to say," I said with a shaky sigh. "You've been in this war for, what, eight years? I'm barely out of boot camp."

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it, kid," he said. "All you gotta remember is keep your head down, stay calm, and point your gun in the same direction as everybody else."

That pulled a shaky, little chuckle out of me. Lance himself threw me a goofy, lopsided grin. "Yeah, you'll be just fine," he said one more time before the bear of a man walked off to help out some other poor recruit. When he was gone, I took another deep breath to try to steady myself. It didn't really work, but I could actually finish tightening up my armored vest.

I finished gearing up as quickly as I could; knee and elbow pads, shin guards, arm guards, gloves, and then finally my helmet. Strapping it down, I slapped the visor down and picked up my XM-13 assault rifle from where it leaned against the bed post. A few generations down the line from the original XM-8, it now fired the 7.62X54 mm round with a fire rate of 900 rounds per minutes. Accurate out to about 1200 meters, it was one helluva rifle to have. I did decide to take off the scope though; not really what I was used to.

I looked down to check my gun again, making sure that the fire system was set to "burst". There wasn't any point in wasting any bullets in my mind. I worked the bolt several times out of habit, then shoved a magazine in, smacking the bottom of it to make sure it had locked in place.

I then checked on the 12mm pistol that sat in my hip holster. Semi auto with 15 rounds in the magazine, it could shoot through a engine block and come out of the other side of the car. I shove a magazine inside it and worked the slide, loading a round into the breech. Sliding it back into its holster, I slid my combat knife into the slit in my boot. I slid another one into the other; two's always better than just one.

Sarge kicked open the door to the barracks, decked out in full battle gear. "Let's move, Marines!"

A collective "Hooah!" thundered throughout the air. The rest of the soldiers started trotting through the door. I found a place to slip in with everyone else and filed out with everyone else. As soon as my foot hit the cracked dirt outside the doorway, the heat slammed into me like a wind tunnel. I hated summer, especially on a desert planet like Yel-Maros. Right now, it was probably about 102 degrees. Maybe 103.

Not really knowing what else to do right now, I just followed the rest of the company, glancing around at everyone else. The entire area was alive with chatter and the drone of receiving and giving orders. Off to the right the air seemed to buzz like a million bees as a group of men riding some hover bikes raced ahead of us. A few medics were tending to a line of wounded soldiers lying on the ground. The hurt men seemed to be covered completely in blood as they moaned in pain. Some of them were screaming, holding onto their stomachs or chests, anywhere that blood was pumping out. There were more than a few that had nubs for limbs. Some hadn't been cut off all the way and hung on by a narrow strip of skin. I tried not to think about what might've done that, but couldn't help but swallow nervously either way.

The whir of the drop ship's engines were a low drone ahead of us and soon the metallic thudding of combat boots running up the ramp. Within moments, I was inside the hull of the drop ship, the orange strobe lights warning everyone that it was preparing for take off. All of the thirty seats closest to the ramp were full, but there was one to the right, second from the last. I sat down, strapping myself in with the sturdy safety belts.

I felt the guy next to me nudge my arm. He was fairly tall, a few inches taller than me while we were sitting down. He had pale blue eyes and pale skin with square jaws. "Are you new recruit as well," he asked, his thick Russian making him sound totally awesome while nearly incomprehensible at the same time.

I nodded, held my fist out to him, and said, "Yeah. I'm John."

"I am Niko," he said as he bumped fists with me. Sarge walked past us, opening a door and leaned in and barked to the pilots, "All bodies in! Let's go!"

I glanced to the left as I heard the ramp groan to a close. The flashing light melted into a steady red glow. The soft hum of the idle engines grew to a high powered whine as it prepared to lift off the ground. A sudden jerk throughout the hull told me that we were air. I gulped nervously; I had never been much of a flyer.

Sarge turned back to us and said, "Cut the chatter!" When everyone was quiet, he started detailing the mission to us. "We're gonna reinforce Whiskey Outpost. A large Zerg force started hittin' 'em hard. Reports say that's it's mostly zerglings with a few hydralisks thrown in the mix. They did say that we _should_ expect larger species."

There were joint murmurs of dissent among the other troopers. The guy across from me groaned and said, "I hate them little bastards."

Sarge nodded and said, "So do I, Henderson, but there ain't much we can do about it. Ready up, we're landing in five minutes!" Sarge went down on one knee and bent his head. His lips were moving soundlessly as he started praying.

"Wolfe!" I turned to see who'd said my name, but couldn't see who had because of the restraints; it was hard to even breathe in them.

"Yeah," I called back.

"It's Lance! As soon as we land, hook up with us! Got it?"

"Gotcha," I called back to him. I tried to relax in my seat, but it didn't really work. _Come on. You're the one that wanted to do something with your life, make a difference. You the one that told everybody you weren't afraid of dying, as long as it meant you did something important. You've always been good with a rifle. Come on, man, you can do this._

I just kept telling myself that over and over, and it seemed too soon that Sarge was saying, "Thirty seconds! Get ready!"

I felt my breath get caught in my throat. I felt the ship jump again as we started descending and a sudden jerk told me that we were now hovering above the ground. I unbuckled the restraints and got ready to stand up. A final little tug said we had touched down. The strobe light flashed green as the ramp dropped to the ground. I took a _really_ deep breath and ran out of the ship behind everyone else, Sarge standing at the top of the ramp waving us out.

From what I knew about it, Whiskey Outpost was a relatively small fort, although it was strategically placed in the mouth of a valley that ran straight between the Uris Mountain Range. The valley made the travel across the mountains go from days to hours. The warehouses for supplies and machines were behind the barracks and factories, all being protected by a twenty foot tall wall at the mouth of the valley.

At the top of the wall, a line of troopers were firing their rifles at something that I couldn't see. Two chain guns hummed their rounds into the invisible enemies. I could hear the grotesque roars of anger and screeches of pain of whatever they were killing. "Lance," I yelled, really wanting to be beside him right now. I searched throughout the crowd of troopers, looking for his tanned, scarred face, but couldn't find him. "Lance!"

"Wolfe, get over here! I ain't got all day," he yelled back. I saw him waving at me through a gap of the heads and shoulders. I shouldered my way through the other troopers until I was right at his side. The rest of the squad was there too; Lance, Chris, and Rick. Chris was wiry for being 26 and working out routinely, but he was still strong as an ox. Sparring with him wasn't fun at all. Rick was the newest jarhead. After living through a few fights, he was getting trigger happy. A cocky smile was tugging up one corner of his lips.

As we ran, I felt my hands get clammy. My heart started pounding a mile a minute. The gunfire now sounded as if it were right next to my head. I shook my head, trying to make myself calm down. Didn't really work.

We came to a stop as one of the outpost troopers from came running up to us. It looked like someone had taken a paint can of violet and splashed it all over his vest and face. It took me a minute to realize that it was probably blood…

"You Sergeant Johnson," the trooper yelled over the gunfire.

"Yes sir! Who's in command," Sarge said, getting ear to ear with the trooper so they could hear each other.

"Me, Captain Williams! Glad to see ya here, trooper," the trooper said. I resisted the urge to snap to a salute; now wasn't the right time.

"Not a problem, sir! How's it holdin' up out here?"

"The first two waves we've held back pretty well, but they were just the little runts" the captain said, turning and walking back to the wall. "The third wave had a couple of them hydralisks, and they got some of our troopers with that acid spit. But once we knocked them out, hadn't seen 'em since. I reckon they don't want to waste that kind of manpower on little ol' us!"

The captain and Sarge were both smiling at the joke. "What do you need me to do, sir," Sarge asked.

The captain went back to business. "I need most of your men to man the wall, but I need a squad or two to reinforce the backside of the outpost. There's an abandoned tunnel about half a mile down the road there. I reckon the zerg found it and are trying to use it to flank us! I've got some Goliaths out there with the troops that were stationed there, but I can't get anything from 'em. I think their radio's knocked out or something!"

Sarge nodded and looked through the company. "Lance, Emery! Take your squads and help out down the road," he barked at us. My heart jumped in my throat when he named Lance. That was my squad. "Roger that, Sarge," Emery and Lance both said at the same time.

Captain Williams turned to snag a soldier that was running towards the wall, boxes of ammo in his hands with a chain of rounds strung about his neck like a huge necklace.

"Rodriguez, I need you to show some of these men the tunnel down the road! I want you to stay there too and see what's wrong with the radio," the captain ordered. The soldier nodded and barked, "Yes sir!" Rodriguez handed all his ammo to one of our men, and the captain waved at Sarge to follow him to the wall.

Rodriguez waited until they had all moved out, and then came up to us. "You following me," he asked. Emery and Lance both nodded. Rodriguez waved at us and yelled, "Come on! It's maybe half a mile down the road!" He turned set off down a dirt path, setting a long loped stride.

The rest of us followed him. The gunfire behind us eventually started to fade, but gunfire began ahead of us. Aside from the regular rattle and pop of the assault rifles, there were quick "boom-boom-booms" as well. Rodriguez turned off of the dirt path and up a gently sloping hill. "That leads right into the tunnel, but we've got a defensive line set up on high ground," he yelled back at us.

We started running up the hill, and an explosion rattled my teeth. We crested the hill and we saw a group of about a dozen troops firing from a rise across the valley into a cavern-like opening in the side of the canyon wall. Three of the massive walkers called Goliaths stood behind them, their twin 30mm auto cannons – each with a trio of rotating barrels - ripping through the little four legged creatures that were bursting out of the opening about one hundred meters away. Blood that looked like the color on Captain Williams was splattered along the ground and all over the canyon wall.

We sprinted up to the defensive line and slammed up against the barricades of scrap metal. "Rodriguez," one of them yelled, a savage smile on his face. "Where the hell ya been, man? You been missin' all the fun!"

Rodriguez pulled a frown and grumbled out, "Ammo duty." The other man laughed as he squeezed another burst of rounds into the hole. "Well, since you're the ammo man today, take that bike and get us some more 20 mils; Goliaths are runnin' low on ammo."

Rodriguez growled out a curse, but hopped on the Vulture and zipped away. The soldier turned to us and said something, but a burst of auto cannon fire made him silent. Lance tapped his ear, and the man yelled, "You reinforcements?"

Lance nodded and yelled back, "What's wrong with your radio?"

The man held a ruin piece of metal that looked like it had been melted. That meant acid…

Lance nodded again and said, "Looks like you got some bugs in a hole!"

"Like shootin' rats in a barrel," the man said with the same savage smile and fired another burst into the cavern. I set my rifle on top of the barricade and looked at the scene below. The little creatures were a lot of different colors, although it seemed that their "skin" was mostly brown. They looked like they had sharp claws on their feet, with raptor-like talons on their hind feet. Razor sharp teeth protruded from their broad muzzles and they had short, stubby tails. All in all, they looked like little brutes.

"Come on, rook! Fire your rifle," somebody yelled in my ear. It made me jump, and my finger jerked the trigger. The burst of sudden fire tore the gun away from me, but some of the bullets lashed into one of the beasts that had managed to sprint away from the kill zone. With its right hind leg shot and crippled, it still tried to crawl. I took better aim this time, sending a trio of rounds into its thick chest. It groped for a few more breaths, and then lay still.

My little smile of triumph was interrupted by one of my squad mates as they said, "Keep firing, rook!" I turned my rifle back to the hole and lined up on another, this one running in a zigzag line. I aimed in front of it as it jumped again, squeezing another burst off, the little thing running into the rounds. Purple liquid exploded from its stocky throat as its face slammed into the cracked ground. It spun around in circles in its death throes, its limbs thrashing wildly. I squeezed another round into its head to finish it off.

I didn't send fire into the mix and "spray and pray" like some of the other guys. I tried to make my shots count as much as possible, shooting into tightly packed groups or seeking out the single beasts that managed to stray away from the mass of fire. Another burst from my rifle sent one of the things falling to the ground, its dead body tripping up some of its friends. As I sent the other beasts to their companion's fate, I felt someone grab my shoulder and shove me to the ground as someone yelled, "Screamers!"

I heard Lance yell into my ear, "Stay down!" I heard the rapid flapping of wings and something screeching overhead, and then heard large splats and something sizzling. I looked up just in time to see the Goliaths' upper body rotate and track the flying creatures. In a second, two shoulder-fire rockets burst away from each Goliath. Within moments the projectiles slammed into the flying creatures. One rockets destroyed one of the creature's wings. It spun out of control, slamming into the canyon wall before tumbling to the ground at least fifty feet below, no longer moving. Another rocket slammed into the far left creature, leaving a gaping hole in its body as it dropped like a rock. The two final rockets blew the last creature to smithereens.

When Lance got off me, I looked around to see some of the men screaming, their arms or legs disintegrating by something that looked like acid. One of the Goliath's metal was sagging towards the ground, its cockpit taking the full brunt of whatever those things had spit. One of the globs had landed harmlessly in front of the barricades, searing into the ground.

While someone hurried to help the wounded, the rest of us looked back over the barricade to see at least forty of the little things running straight for us. Feeling more than a little scared right now, I tried to keep my head as I switched my rifle to "auto." Taking aim, I sent a volley of rounds into the mass of running limbs and slavering jaws.

The first line of beasts fell quickly, but was soon overwhelmed by the rest of the horde. The Goliaths starting firing again as well, but it seemed as if the creatures were right in front of us. God, they could run fast!

A rapid click-click-click of my gun almost made me scream. Had it jammed? I ejected the magazine to see that it was empty. I swear could've shot myself in the foot right then; how do you honestly forget that a gun needs bullets?

I slapped another magazine in and worked the breech just in time to look up at one of the beasts leaping up at me, its jaws wide open. A strangled cry forced its way out of my throat as I fell back. Jaws snapped a hairsbreadth away from my face and I heard someone scream, "Rook!"

I kept rolling with it, and ending up standing over the thing. As quickly as I could, I shoved the barrel in its mouth and squeezed the trigger. Its blood spurted up in globs and splashed all over me. After a second, I pulled the barrel out of its open mouth, the end stick with blood and saliva.

I looked up to see Rick staring at me with his jaws open. I started to smile at him, but saw the head of a zerglings standing up from behind the barricade, its blood red eyes focused on Chris. I brought my rifle up and screamed, "Get down," at the same time. Rick's eyes got huge, but he ducked down as teeth slammed shut where his head was a moment ago. I squeezed the trigger and filled the brute's head full of hot lead. It fell backwards, but two more took its place, fully perched on top of the barricade. I started to run to the left, firing rounds at the one closest to me while trying to stay away from the other one.

At least half a dozen rounds slammed into the beast's chest before it finally fell dead. This gave the other one enough time to leap at me. Rick fired rounds at it and hit it in its haunches, but it slammed into me before I could get a shot off. Its front claws latched onto my rifle while its jaws started to snap at me.

I held onto the rifle with everything I had, trying to use it to keep the thing from having my face for lunch. Hot, sticky drool dripped across my face as I tried to shove it off. It allowed me a little room, but slung my rifle away in just a few moments. I slammed my forearm into its throat, but still felt my head slam against the ground and its teeth nip my nose. Its front claws were tearing at my arm plates, scratching them, but without much success.

My right leg was pinned underneath its unmoving rear legs. My left leg was free, but my left arm was holding the thing back. I hoped this next idea would work.

I slammed my right fist into its face as hard as I could. It off balanced the thing enough to get off of my left arm. I quickly slipped the knife out of my boot and tried to stab the zergling in the throat. I missed as it ducked back, but its jaws found my forearm and started crushing it. Lightning bolts seared through my arm as I felt the armor around it cracking, the bones starting to crush. I quickly grabbed the knife with my right hand and plunged it into the back of the zergling's neck. It howled with pain and rage, but I ripped it out and stabbed into its thick throat. It kept howling, trying to get away from me, but I kept stabbing as hard and as fast as I could, its blood spurting out like a water sprinkler.

Within moments, it stopped howling and simply started jerking as its blood poured of its throat. Its eyes slowly slid shut and it stopped moving. I rolled it off of me, almost sneezing from the sour scent of its blood. I looked up to see everyone else still firing their rifles as if nothing had happened. I sniffed and wiped some of the sticky saliva off of my face and went over to get my rifle. I felt exhausted, and old. Huh; I thought I'd feel scared out of my mind and had expected the exhausted part, but not the old part.

I bent down, but knew that the rifle was ruined anyway; the barrel was cracked and the entire stock was shattered, huge holes gouged into where the firing mechanism was. I tossed the rifle aside, wiped the knife off on my sleeve and slid it back into my boot, pulling out my pistol.

My arm throbbed painfully, as if someone was beating it with a hammer. I held it close to my chest, but other than that tried to keep it as relaxed as possible; flexing my hand hurt too much.

Instead of going back to the frontlines, I stayed in the back and shot at anything that might've gotten passed the other guys. I didn't have a rifle, so I didn't think I'd be doing much good on the frontline. Plus, there were more than enough of those zergling things appearing around the flanks.

Two of them latched onto one of the Goliaths, tearing at its leg. I took aim and fired, blasting the closest one's head into little fragments that stuck to the Goliath's armor. The second one, which had been startled by its exploding friend, fell to the ground and quickly twisted upright. It ran straight for me, its maw wide open in a screech.

I fired the pistol twice before it skidded to a halt on its face, two holes smoking from its right shoulder and its forehead. "Rook," someone screamed. I spun around to see Lance waving me over. "Get your ass over here!" I ran over to him, slamming my back against the barricade. "What the hell do you think you're doing," he screamed over the sound of his rifle.

"Shootin' these things, whadya think," I screamed back, popping up from behind the barricade to put one of the things down with four shots. I ducked back down and ejected the empty magazine, slamming another into place before sliding a round into the breech.

"Where's your rifle," he asked. I jerked my head towards the ruined piece of metal behind us. He glanced over at it, then saw the corpse of the zergling that I had stabbed to death. He put two and two together and started laughing as he was shooting. "You lucky sunuvabitch," he said breathlessly.

I returned a soft chuckle and stood up shoot some more of the little cretins. A few shots later, the Goliath to my right stopped shooting. I glanced over to see if there were any of the zerglings attacking it, but it was just standing there like a metal giant. After a second or two, the cockpit popped open to reveal the pilot in a jumpsuit harness.

He pulled out a pistol, worked the slide and started shooting into the mass as well. I edged closer and yelled up at him, "What's wrong?"

He glanced down at me and screamed back, "No ammo!" My heart leaped into my throat as panic started taking over. I ran over to Lance and screamed in his ear, "The Goliath to the right is out of ammo!"

He glanced at me as if he were shocked, and then barked out a stream of colorful curses. At about that time, the cannons on the other Goliath started clicking – except there weren't anything being fired. That pilot opened his cockpit as well, quickly putting his pistol to work, too. "Where the hell is Rodriguez," he screamed into the air. Nobody could give him an answer.

All of a sudden, explosions among the horde shattered the air. Dirt and blood flew into the air, bits and pieces of the creatures being scattered everywhere. I glanced over to see about half a dozen of Vulture hover bikes zooming in, each of them hurtling fragmentation grenades towards the mass of zerglings. Behind them, a pair of Arclite tanks crested the hill and lumbered into range. The sound of their twin 80 mm cannons sounded like church bells ringing.

Shards of rock exploded off of the canyon wall right above the tunnel entrance as the massive projectiles struck the cliff face. Even from here, the massive cannons made my teeth rattle. The sheer force of impact and subsequent concussions caused a massive rock fall, effectively sealing the entrance. This provided no reinforcements for the little bastards below – and no escape.

"Kill 'em! Kill 'em all," one of the troopers down the line screamed. I fired rounds as fast as I could pull the trigger, heaving air into my lungs that were soon forced again in a fierce roar. My voice didn't sound like my own; hoarse and savage. It felt like it would start bleeding at any moment.

The massive amount of bullets that shredded into the horde, along with the grenades that were fired from the Vultures that remained on the top of the hill, turned the attack into a massacre. Not a single creature was left standing. When the smoke and dust had settled, a few limbs twitched, a few creatures were wailing as their blood poured out of their body, but it was over. A whine echoed off the canyon walls as one of the tanks turned on their external speakers. "Heard you guys might've wanted some help," the tanker said, a note of triumph in his gruff voice. A thunderous cheer of victory rose up from behind me. I was more than willing to throw my two cents in as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The white walls reflected the light of the hospital with almost painful brightness. One wall was lined with a counter that was covered with scalpels, stethoscopes, syringes and many other medical tools. Drawers filled the body of the counter. The adjacent wall was lined with IV stands, heart monitors, and other stands that I didn't recognize.

I was sitting on the hospital bed in the center of the room, sniffing at the slightly sour scent of ammonia that filled the air. It tickled my nose, making me feel like sneezing but not enough to make me sneeze. I unconsciously started to rub my nose with my left hand, but winced at the pain that surged through my arm. I looked down at it. I had wrapped my arm up in a thick cloth once I had gotten back to base, thinking it would help keep it clean from infection. It throbbed painfully, but I did my best to put it out of my mind.

All I wore was a hospital gown, and the thin material wasn't thick enough to keep out the cool air of the room. A chill ran up my spine as the door to the room opened up. A pretty nurse in a white lab coat came in, reading a clipboard that was in her hand. She marked a few things off on the clipboard with a pen, and then set the clipboard on the counter.

She turned to me and flicked her head, tossing some of her auburn hair out of her eyes. "Private Wolfe, I presume," she said, her voice warm and friendly.

I nodded and said, "Yes ma'am. That's me."

She let out a little smile, revealing a set of white teeth. "I'm Linda, and I'll be your doctor for today. If I could see your injury, please?"

I nodded and held out my left arm, unwinding the warm, sticky cloth. Underneath, my skin had a reddish, purplish color to it and it looked like a massive bruise. There were holes the size of pinpoints in a semicircle around the middle of my arm; I guess where the zergling's teeth had penetrated my armor.

Linda gingerly took my arm and examined it, carefully running her delicate fingers all along my arm, noting where her fingers were whenever I winced.

When she was done, she nodded and released my arm, walking over to her counter. She opened a drawer and pulled out two vials; one was filled with a milky substance, and the other contained a clear liquid. She reached for a fat syringe and looked over the tip of the thick needle.

Without turning to me, she said, "I'm going to give you metabolic enhancement coupled with a supply of osteocytes and calcium. Do you understand what that means?"

I racked my brain to give her a somewhat acceptable answer. Maybe I should've paid more attention in school after all…

"Um, I'm gonna guess that it has something to do with healing the bones in my arm," I half asked, half guessed.

An approving smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Very good. This is really an extremely oversimplified explanation, but the osteocytes will boost the number already in your radius and ulna, and the calcium will help strengthen your arm enough as it is. Basically, it'll heal your arm much faster than it would on its own," she said.

I shrugged and said, "I think I should've paid more attention to Anatomy during high school, because I caught about half of that."

A lilting laugh left her and she said, "You're a cute little thing, aren't you?"

I felt my face start to burn with embarrassment and did my best to put it down. "I try to be. It helps every now and then."

She wore a full smile as she turned back around to me, the syringe full of the cloudy white liquid. "Alright, your arm will heal in about twelve hours. The breaks weren't major, just a few fractures. However, there is a drawback; your arm will go through the same amount of pain in those twelve hours that it would in the time that it would take for you to normally heal."

I gave her an uneasy smile. "Three weeks of pain in twelve hours? Piece of cake," I said nervously. She gave me another smile. "A little brave one, too, huh?"

She lifted up my arm and set the tip of the needle on my arm, right in the middle of my arm. "Another bit of bad news is I'm going to have to inject it directly into your bone marrow. This is going to hurt," she warned.

Before I could say anything, she slid the syringe into my arm, and then shoved it _into_ my bone. I couldn't snuff out the cry of pain as the agony exploded, black spots swimming in front of my eyes. I watched as she pushed the head of the syringe down, the cloudy liquid leaking into my arm. Ice flooded into my bones, and it wasn't long until goose bumps appeared on my skin. Despite this, I could feel heat radiate off of my arm and could almost watch it swell.

Linda was quick as she pulled out the syringe, opened up a drawer, and pulled out a roll of cloth similar to what I used to wrap my arm up with. She efficiently wrapped my arm up, tighter than I had and in half the time it took me.

I couldn't stop my arm from shaking as she let it go. "Now, I'm going to give you some medications to help you deal with the pain," she said.

Eventually, my arm was too heavy to hold up, so I let it hang limp by my side. Linda was rifling through a drawer for whatever she was going to give me as I slid off the bed and onto my feet; maybe I would feel better on my feet. _Nope, instantly made it worse_, I thought as a sudden of wave of vertigo slapped me in the face.

I grabbed the edge of the bed to steady myself as Linda turned back around, four horse pills inside a little baggy lying in her hand. "Here you go. These should knock you out for the better part of the night. Now, I want you to go straight to your bunk and take a day off. Doctor's orders," she said.

I plucked the baggy out of her hand and mumbled out a thanks. She opened the door and reached around the corner and into the hallway. There was an annoying squeaking as she pulled a trolley into the room, my BDU's folded neat on the top tray.

"Now, I hope you can dress yourself," she asked, glancing back at me with a teasing smile.

"Yes ma'am," I answered, not even realizing the bait until it was gone.

"Well then, I'll leave you to it," she said. She turned around in the doorway and said, "Hope to see you soon."

"It'll be way too soon when I do," I muttered under my breath as I dry swallowed the pills. She let out another full laugh and shut the door. Dressing was actually slightly challenging when one of my arms was hanging limp by my side and felt like it was in an inferno of freezing flames. However, I finally finished sliding into my shirt and pants, but left my boots unstrapped; I didn't feel like I had the energy.

I left the hospital room with my arm tucked into my chest, my boots slapping against my legs with every step. The walls were now gray steel that was five foot thick with titanium reinforcing. Even though it was one of the safest buildings to be in, sometimes the knowledge of being in a hallway that was two tons alone made me claustrophobic. Large overhead lights kept every inch of the hallway lit up with white light, banishing any shadows that might've been able to creep into the hallway.

Every now and then, I would have to slump up against the side of the cold walls, feeling as if I didn't have energy. Maybe that was one of the side effects of whatever she gave me. I'd wait until I caught my breath and then continue.

When I finally made it out of the building, I immediately wanted to go back inside to the air conditioned comfort behind me. The dry wind had picked up, swirling dust around the middle of base camp. All of the buildings were set up in a rectangular fashion.

Right next to the medical bay were barracks A through D, each of them able to hold two hundred marines. Next to them was a string landing pads for Wraiths and drop ships to land if need be. The base took a right angle to the left then, and a cluster of supply depots and warehouses lined that portion of the thirty five foot wall that surrounded the encampment. Stacked three rows deep and spreading across the wall in a line of ten, there was enough food processing plants and purifying facilities there to supply an army big enough to fill every centimeter within the base, a full square kilometer. And that was if everybody ate five times a day.

The command center, HQ, was centered along the western wall, the least likely to get attacked. All reports said that the "Zerg" were southern and eastern for the most part, just now beginning to establish a foot hold on Yel-Maros. Three factories towered next to HQ, lights strobing from within the structures has they hurried to repair any machines that were damaged in the last battle.

I didn't feel like looking at the rest of the base, instead daydreaming of the comfort of my nice, springy and hard bunk. I stumbled my way into the dry wind towards my barrack block, block C. Engineers, officers, and other marines ran around me, bustling about to do whatever duties they had.

Someone almost ran me over, and I had to stumble to stay upright. I looked up and saw through the vertigo Sarge, another large cigar stuck out of his mouth. "Rook, what the hell are you doing? You're stumblin' around like you're a thirty pack deep," he said, exhaling cigar smoke right in my face. I didn't even notice it.

"Just got back from the doctor, sir," I mumbled out, struggling to stand up straight and give him a salute. My arm trembled, but my hand finally made it to my temple.

Sarge snapped a salute back to me, and growled, "At ease."

I clasped my hands behind my back, although what I really wanted was to fall asleep right then. I could feel my eyelids fluttering.

Sarge nodded briskly and said, "Yeah. I've had that witch inject me a couple of times before; makes you useless for about twelve days. Might as well head on to your bunk, kid, get some sleep."

"I was on my way, Sarge," I mumbled, barely able to keep my eyes open. I could barely feel my arm as it was.

"Carry on," Sarge growled, and he gave me a crisp salute. I did my best to return it, and kept going on my way. I made it to barrack C and mashed the door release button. The door slid up without a very slight hissing sound. I entered, my unstrapped boots clopping on the floor with metallic snaps. The beds were bunk beds, lining both walls to the very end of the building. There was enough space on either side of the beds for a locker for each marine's belongings and armor. A door on the far wall led into the shower rooms.

I was the fourteenth bunk on the right and on the bottom. I didn't feel like stripping down; I didn't feel like I could make it to my bunk without passing out. I held onto the bed railings for support as I staggered my way to my bunk. The last thing I remember was bouncing on a bunk. I wasn't even sure if it was mine before darkness enveloped me.

I was roughly shaken awake by someone, and I opened my eyes way too soon for my liking. "Hey. Get out of my bunk," someone growled.

I managed to mumble out an apology and roll onto my hands and knees. I straightened myself up to my feet, raising my arms up to stretch out my back. Speaking of arms, I practically tore off the cloth that was wrapped around mine. The bruising was still there and it still felt a little swollen, but all in all it felt pretty solid. I flexed my hand, satisfied.

"Don't you have your own bunk to sleep in," someone said in a thick Russian accent.

I turned around to see Niko, who stood taller than me by at least six inches. The front of his olive green T-shirt was soaked with sweat. His barrel chest was clearly 110 percent muscle, and muscular arms protruded from broad shoulders. He had massive hands, and they looked like they could clamp down on you like a bear trap.

"Oh yeah, man. I'm real sorry. I just went to the doctor yesterday and she gave me some kind of medication. I took them before I left the medical bay, and I was surprised I didn't face plant the floor," I hastily explained.

He nodded and began stripping out of his shirt. I turned and found my bunk the next one down. How sad was that? Five more steps and I would've been in my bed. Oh well.

I opened up my locker to find my pistol where I had set it on the top shelf when I had gotten back. I didn't get the chance to clean it from when I had come back in. I was worried some sand or blood had messed up the firing mechanism.

I took it out and sat down on my bunk, starting to disassemble it. From gritty feel as the slide slipped off of the weapon, I could already tell that it was in bad shape. Out of the top of my head, I saw Niko walk past me and towards the showers, naked as a jay bird and carrying a towel in one of his hands. I continued cleaning my gun, pulling out a gun cleaning kit from the bottom of my locker. Taking a soft cloth from it, I used it to start wiping away from the inside of the slide; dirt and sand littered the cloth in just a few swipes.

The door to the barracks busted open to reveal Lance, Chris, and Rick walking in. There were in their BDU's as well. Rick was smoking a cigarette and cracking up with Lance. Chris was lingering in the back, a quiet smile on his face.

I looked back down at my pistol, moving on to releasing the recoil spring plug. I eased it off, careful to keep the pressure under control so it didn't zip off into a wall.

"Well look who decided to wake up," I heard Rick say. He plopped his butt down beside me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. Smoke billowed up to my nose, a burning smell that I found distasteful and pleasant at the same time.

"Yeah, the doctor gave me something and it knocked me out cold," I said with a chuckle. Rick rolled his eyes, and said, "It's good you woke up, too. Sarge was about to come in here and kick your ass."

I did feel a little tremble of fear, but put on a mock face of shock. "Oh no," I said. They laughed and Lance announced, "I gotta drain the sea monster guys." He took off towards the showers, busted open the door, and yelled, "Niko, you Russian sunuvabitch! Where the hell you been?"

The door shut behind him, and I took a scrub brush to clean out the barrel. Rick's smoke got in my way again, and I waved it away.

"What, you've never smoked before," he asked, breathing a gust of smoke through his nose.

I shook my head and said, "They would never let me at the orphanage."

Rick shook his head and reached into one of chest pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "That's just damned disgraceful. Here try one of mine."

There was a moment of doubt in the back of my mind. I remembered the images of black lungs and black teeth, and people who had to remove there bottom lips from smoking, dipping, or chewing. The orphanage staff had shown them to me when they had caught me taking a cigarette from somebody. However, given the circumstances, I figured there were worse ways to go.

I put the white cigarette in my mouth, and Rick flipped open a Zippo lighter, lighting it for me. "Now just take a little puff if this is your first time. Don't want you hackin' up a lung on us when you just had a full day of bed rest. What the hell am I supposed to tell Sarge when he comes kickin' my ass for giving you a cigarette?"

I sucked on the filter a bit, and then breathed in deep. Fire seemed to fill my lungs, and let out a couple of muffled coughs. I managed to get myself under control pretty quickly and took another puff. It wasn't as bad as the first hit.

I took it out of my mouth, looking over at Rick. "It's all good," I said with a little smile, ignoring the slight nausea I felt.

"Haha, how ya like that Chris? First cigarette and it's like he's been smokin' for years," he said, looking up at Chris for confirmation. Chris nodded, a little grin tugging at one corner of his lips. Lance came back from the showers and snatched the cigarette out of my mouth, crushing it in his fist.

"What the hell are you smoking that crap for," he demanded. My mouth was wide open, eyes probably bulging out of my sockets.

"If you're gonna smoke, smoke something with a little tradition. Like these Wildhorses," he said, pulling a pack of his own cigarettes from his pants pocket. This cigarette was different, the filter brown with flecks of tan. Lance lit it for me, and I could almost instantly tell a difference. These tasted stronger, more robust somehow. It reminded me of back home when I had run away from the orphanage when I was sixteen; warm country air and rolling hills of grass. Then, the nicotine flooded into my system, making every cell in my body tingle. My head started to swim and buzz. It wasn't an altogether horrible feeling.

When I gave an appreciative "Mmm," Rick threw his hands up in the air, saying, "I can't believe he took yours over mine!"

"That's because nobody likes those shitty Marlboro Light 100's you've got, Rick. It's like licking an ashtray," Chris said. I couldn't help but laughing along with the rest of them. I then realized that that was the first time I had heard Chris speak. His voice was softer than Rick's or Lance's, but carried a strong undertone of authority, or independence, nonetheless. The door to the barracks busted open again, and Sarge walked through.

"Officer on the deck," Lance barked, and we all stood as straight as ramrods in a line, eyes facing forward. Sarge came directly in front of me. He looked me in the eyes, and then glanced at the cigarette still between my lips. The smoke lazily curling up from the tip tickled at my nose, but I didn't dare wipe at my nose. Sarge's eyes were as dark as coal.

"How long have been smoking, kid," he asked.

"First one, sir," I barked out, my voice muffled from keeping the cigarette pinned in between my lips.

"You know that stuff'll kill you one day, right," he asked again.

"I figured there were worse ways to go, sir," I said, doing my best to stare straight ahead.

After a moment, he chuckled and ordered us at ease. "Just take it easy with that for a while. It'll mess with your conditioning if you let it get out of control," he said.

"Yes sir," I said, getting a punch in the shoulder from Rick as we all laughed. I grabbed the cigarette with my first and middle finger, trying to mimic what I had seen from movies. I still didn't know how to flick the ashes off, but I wasn't about to admit that to the rest of the guys. Another puff sent second nicotine chill through my body.

Seeing my confusion at how to get rid of the ashes, Lance showed me how. He made a flicking motion with his thumb and said, "The key is to flick with both your thumb and your fingers at the same time, but hold it near the filter so it doesn't break. There ya go."

I soon had the motion down, and took another hit off the cigarette. Sarge just smiled and shook his head before he said, "Alright, boys. HQ gave us another mission; we're to report to Whiskey Outpost at 0730 hours in the morning. Sounds like there's increased hostile activity in the area, and they want someone to check it out. That's us."

There was a collective "Hooah!" from each of us, and I was surprised to hear my own voice in the mix as well. This raised Sarge's eyebrows and he said, "Kid, you could barely keep your rifle in your hands two days ago, and now you're ready to go back out there?"

"It's like kissing a girl, Sarge," I said, coming up with the first thing that came to mind. "You're so nervous the first time you nearly miss. But you just can't get enough of it after that."

There was an uproar of laughter, and Niko walked out of the showers with a towel wrapped around his waist. Six abs stood out from his stomach, and his chest was glistening with shower water.

Sarge looked over, saw him, and said, "Nikolai Bellic?"

Niko snapped to attention and barked out, "Yes sir, Sergeant!"

"You've been permanently transferred to my unit. Your transfer papers have been signed and are already documented. I'm putting you in Lance's squad."

Niko snapped a crisp salute, nearly yelling, "Sir, yes sir!"

Sarge turned back to us and said, "Now you ladies get along and have a tea party. Ya'll better be best friends by tomorrow. Rook, get yourself another rifle." He then turned on his heel and marched out of the barracks without another word.

Niko walked over to his locker, his chest stuck and proud. "Are you Lance," he asked Lance.

Lance nodded and held out his hand, saying, "That's me, big guy. You're name's Niko?"

Niko shook Lance's hand one hard time and nodded. "Yes. I came from northern Siberia."

Lance's eyebrows rose high as he said, "Well, you're a long way from home, ain't ya?" Niko shrugged with a noncommittal nod and a little smile. Pointing to each of us, Lance then introduced us. "This is Rick, Chris, and John, even though we just call him Rook."

"Yes, we have previously met," Niko said, watching me with a little playful glint in his eyes. "He was sleeping in my bunk when I came in last night."

Rick and Lance started laughing, and even Chris started chuckling. When they were done, Lance looked at us all and said, "Yeah. I think we'll all be good friends."


End file.
